Too Deep
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: An Occlumency lesson leads to a terrible revelation...and Harry is exposed to the truth of just how much someone has to sacrifice when they are spying on Lord Voldemort. ABANDONED
1. Occlumency

**Too Deep**

_This is a dark story...as the rating suggests. SS19 wants to push the boundaries even further. She gives one warning._

_That was it._

_Dedicated to skaterkep, for "We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is a best friend."_

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**Chapter One: Occlumency**

He was late—which was a bad thing. He had meant to be on time...yet had drifted off to sleep whilst reading a text for History of Magic the next morning. His nightmares had awoken him—and now he was ten minutes late. With any of teacher, of course, he could just plead homework. With this teacher, excuses were worthless and most of all pointless. He would earn only a harsh glare and sharp, sarcastic words.

So he sprinted down to the dungeon, taking the staircases two or the ambitious three stairs at a time—and skidding to a halt outside the Potions' Master's office door.

He knocked three times, straightening his robes with his other hand, steadying his breathing and preparing himself for the wrath. There was no answer. He knocked again. "Professor? I'm sorry I am late..."

Still nothing.

He leaned on the door—and it moved. He pushed the door open, stepping into the darkened office.

Instantly, a familiar smell stifled his nostrils—he remembered it well, as living with his house-proud aunt, he had cleaned more surfaces in his childhood than any other person he knew. It was disinfectant.

He was suddenly curious—why would his teacher be using a Muggle disinfectant? With a flick of his wand he could clean any item he desired! But the smell was so strong—and he knew he was not mistaken.

"Professor?" He asked again, wondering if this was a really bad time. Perhaps it would be best if he just left right—

"Potter!" A hiss from behind him. He froze, biting his lip for a moment. He thought he had escaped this torment for another week!

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Harry turned, instinctively uncomfortable at the rage pulsing through Severus Snape's voice. "I...I thought we...Occlumency lesson..." He stammered, disgusted at himself and his fear—but Snape was a formidable person when angry. He looked at his teacher, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

There was a short pause—and Harry swore that a slight frown creased Snape's forehead—and then..."You are late, Potter."

"I was doing homework." Harry replied—it was worth a try.

Snape simply stared at him. "Of course." Then he turned away.

Harry was taken aback—that was not the sarcastic response that he had been expecting...the pointed remarks that Snape prided himself in, intended only to wound the recipient. He looked away, still inhaling the scent of disinfectant. "Sir..." He started—but Snape did not react to his voice. He was looking for his wand.

Harry thought this was all quite peculiar—never had he seen his Professor so...so...unreactive. But he gathered his thoughts together and prepared for the mental attack.

The sharp pain across his forehead was too much and he cried out, trying to block his precious memories from Snape's prying eyes—almost instantly the other withdrew. "I told you to practice." Snape said neutrally, lowering his wand.

"I have been practicing!" Harry replied acidly.

Snape just looked at him. Harry saw dark lines under his eyes. His sallow skin had much less colour than usual. He didn't look well. None of this was right. There was something very wrong here.

Snape raised his wand again, "Legilimens!"

Again, he was submerged in the fight to keep his mind hidden—a losing battle—for Snape was just too strong for him. He tried to push him away mentally—diverting his attention—forcing him to see something else. It worked—and he felt a flare of triumph.

Then Voldemort's voice filled his head.

"_You will lose everything you have ever held dear."_

Again, Snape withdrew—this time hurriedly. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sound of Voldemort. He raised his gaze to Snape—who had turned away.

There were more words inside his head.

"_I will take you."_

Snape was staring at him now, eyes narrowed. He didn't say a word—but Harry thought he had paled.

"Legilimens!"

It was a surprise attack—and Harry was not ready.

"_Is this what you want? Try and deny me..."_

Voldemort's words were unfamiliar to him—

And he was plunged into darkness. He felt fear press him like physical walls. He was trying to breathe, yet he couldn't. His throat was too constricted and his chest too tight. There was echoic noise and roaring wind and screaming silence—he tensed every muscle, terrified.

And then, on top of all this, a voice.

A voice, torn with all things—pain and anxiety and desperation.

"_Please. Please—no—please don't!" _

But that was not his voice.

It was not his voice pleading—begging.

It was Snape's.


	2. Potions' Lesson

**Too Deep**

_SS19 is feeling generous, this afternoon. Therefore, she updates this story as requested. _

_There are no warnings on this chapter. _

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**Chapter Two: Potions**

By the time morning came, he had almost forgotten about the Occlumency lesson and the voice in his head. His own nightmares had bothered him, and he had not mentioned anything to Ron or Hermione. Indeed, he did not even think about the peculiar things he had noticed the night before until something happened after lunch.

That something was a Potions lesson.

Professor Snape was in a foul mood. Worse than usual. He glowered at the class when they arrived, slamming the door so it rattled on its hinges, voice sharp and acerbic. He set them a potion to concoct, waving his wand at the blackboard to reveal instructions.

"What's wrong with his hand?" Ron asked in a whisper.

Harry looked to see what he was referring to—although it was almost unmissable. The skin on Snape's right hand was bright red, shiny and raw. Harry almost winced—he could imagine how painful that would be.

"Potions' accident?" Hermione replied, eyes already on her ingredients.

Harry didn't answer—he was thinking. He remembered, when he was much younger, he had spilt a bucket of cleaning liquid on his hands. The liquid had hurt—and of course, he had received no sympathy—but because the mixture had been so dilute, no lasting damage had been caused. But. His skin had turned bright red, almost...

And last night. The smell of disinfectant in Snape's office.

He leaned over his desk, "When I was in my Occlumency lesson last night...Snape was acting really strange."

Ron snorted, "More than normal? Come on Harry, the guy isn't normal by any stretch of the imagination."

"No. He wasn't sarcastic or anything. He didn't shout at me for being late—"

"Why were you late?" Hermione asked.

"Homework." Harry answered—and she raised an eyebrow.

He stared at her for a moment. "Anyway. But when he was inside my head, I heard a voice. It wasn't mine—it was someone who was in trouble. It sounded like..."

"Potter!" Snape barked from the front of the classroom. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for talking."

Harry glared at Snape, who turned his back and continued to prowl.

"It sounded like him." Harry finished finally. Hermione frowned slightly. "You think it was his memory that you were hearing?" She sounded sceptical.

"Yes." Harry replied. "I know it sounds ridiculous...but, it's happened before. I saw into his childhood—"

"Potter." Snape had appeared from behind him, and made Harry jump. "Are you having temporary issues with your hearing? Ten more points from Gryffindor."

Harry flushed and lowered his head over his cauldron. He hated Snape.

But he couldn't get the voice out of his head.

"_Please. Please—no—please don't!" _

It was a sound that scared him. If that was Snape, and Harry did not doubt it...then he had been in pain.

Harry knew that Snape was a spy—not that he trusted him—but he seemed to be untouchable.

He threw the leaves into the potion carelessly—and there was an explosion followed by clouds of purple smoke.

"Failed again, Potter." Snape's voice floated to him over the snickers from the Slytherins and the coughing of the people around him.

As anger boiled in his stomach, he realised that he couldn't care any less about Snape. Let him be tortured. It was all the man deserved.

* * *

Harry was still stewing at dinner. Hermione looked up at him over the pages of her book. "Harry. Eat something."

"He just can't stand it, can he? He has to say...something..."

"He was in a bad mood today." Hermione pacified.

Ron stared at her incredulously, "Bloody hell, Hermione, he is _always _in a bad mood!"

"Yes, well, if what Harry is saying is true—maybe he has a reason to be in a bad mood?"

"Since when were you Snape's greatest defender?" Ron demanded.

"I'm not defending him. It's just—I can imagine that spying on You-Know-Who is not an easy task. Also. He's not in his chair."

Harry cast his eyes to the teacher's table. Hermione was right; Snape's chair was empty.

"I still think he's an idiot." Ron replied, stuffing the chicken on his fork into his mouth.

Harry continued to watch the long table at the other end of the hall. He saw Professor McGonagall sweep into the hall from the back entrance—and lean over to whisper something into Professor Dumbledore's ear.

Dumbledore nodded to whatever she was saying, and then she sat down. The Headmaster turned his head to stare at Snape's empty chair. He rested one hand on his beard and frowned.

Harry looked away, back to his soup. He wasn't hungry.

He waited for his friends to finish, and they stood to leave. He glanced back at the table one final time.

And Dumbledore was still watching Snape's chair, lost in thought. Harry couldn't describe it—but something icy hit the pit of his stomach. Why did Dumbledore look so...worried?


	3. Harry's First Dream

**Too Deep**

_**WARNINGS FOR TORTURE.**_

_Skaterkep, my thoughts are with you._

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**Chapter Three: Harry's First Dream**

Harry hoped that he could put all these thoughts aside before trying to sleep. He knew that he was supposed to shut down his emotions—but that was difficult. He didn't understand how. He would never be a good Occlumens, not like this.

Maybe if he had a better teacher, it wouldn't be such a problem for him.

Snape was not meant to be a teacher. Harry could see how he had made such a good Death Eater.

He closed his eyes and turned over.

_He felt anger pounding through his veins—but he was calm and composed on the outside. He liked to appear calm. He knew it was more terrifying that way. And he needed to be terrifying. He wanted to terrify the man at his feet._

"_You're very quiet this evening, Severus."_

_He looked into the black eyes—Snape was the only one brave enough to meet his gaze—and he laughed. "Perhaps you have decided that pleading with me isn't enough." Such a foolish man. No matter what he did, he would never be in favour. _

"_Aren't you going to say anything? Do you not realise how much your silence upsets me?" He was testing him—Snape always provided such delicious entertainment. How he enjoyed tearing the other to pieces. How he enjoyed watching him fall apart. It was all the man deserved, after all._

_Still the silence—and it infuriated him. "Answer me!" He bellowed, raising his wand and casting the curse before his mind had fully formulated the instruction. He watched as Snape twitched on the floor like a dying spider—before relinquishing the spell. "I could kill you for such impudence Severus." He whispered harshly. _

_Snape coughed, raising his head._

"_But...I like having such a wonderful test subject." He picked Snape up by his collar and dragged him across the floor, throwing him against the wall. He turned to the test tube rack on the table with a thrill of glee. "I have been working on a stronger solution..." He glanced at Snape, who was watching him, both hands behind his back. "It's ironic. The Potions' Master brought to his knees by potions."_

_Snape hardly responded. He was still staring at him—eyes devoid of any emotion. "I am sure that you and I will exchange words shortly. When you beg me not to do this to you. And I ignore your pleas—because, simply...you don't deserve any mercy." He picked up the primarily Muggle device lying on the table. "I'm bored, Severus. I am bored of hiding. I am bored of waiting for Dumbledore and his precious Potter to do anything." Impatience burned deep within his chest. "I need to hurt something. I need that power."_

"_My Lord..."_

_He straightened his back. "Finally your voice is found. Don't worry, Severus, all the damage is reversible." He turned to face the other. "Well. All the physical damage at least..." He took a step forward, laughing as the other flinched away, triumph pounding through his veins, the strength to cause so much torment to one so weak and vulnerable..._

"Snape!" Harry sat up straight in bed, shaking and trembling. Instantly there was a hand on his arm, "Harry, mate..."

It was Ron.

"You were crying out. We need to..."

"I need to see Dumbledore." Harry cried, trying to gain control of his mind. He knew this dream was real—that Snape was in trouble—only Dumbledore would understand—

"_Aren't you going to plead with me?" He asked playfully. Standing up, he was so much taller than Snape, who had lost much of his own dignity these past few nights. Once he had stood so strong—and now...now he was simply nothing. A toy for Voldemort to play with._

_Games that the Dark Lord played were not pleasant in any way._

"_Aren't you going to lower yourself again? To beg me not to touch you?"_

He staggered, the power and the pleasure almost bringing him to his knees. He needed someone to stop this—but he couldn't stop the visions filling his mind.

"_Give me your arm."_

"_Not tonight."_

"_Pardon?"_

"_Please...I can't..."_

Ron was dragging him along the corridor as he dipped between Voldemort's reality and his own. Was it reality? Was Snape really in trouble? He had not been at dinner—

_He reached down and grabbed Snape's arm, wrenching it from behind his back. He almost recoiled at the state of Snape's hand. He tutted, "What is this?" He ran a gentle—oh yes, Lord Voldemort could do gentle. And tender too.—finger over the burning skin. "Were we feeling dirty? Unclean?" He leaned forwards to whisper a word into Snape's ear, "Tainted?"_

_He smirked when he felt Snape stiffen._

"Professor—Harry—he's..."

There was another voice. "Harry. What is it?" Hands on his elbows. He forced himself to open his eyes and look into Dumbledore's blue gaze. "Snape..." He managed to spit, gasping for breath. He saw the concern transform Dumbledore's eyes before his vision dissolved again.

"_We can't have this, Severus!" He murmured, still looking at Snape's hand. "People could suspect. Let's clear this up, shall we? Pretend it was a potions' burn, perhaps?" He pressed the point of his wand to Snape's hand. "We could make it...more authentic..." Red light appeared at the end of his wand, and Snape screamed. He laughed..._

Screams and laughter blended together to make one hideous noise pounding through his forehead. He collapsed down to his knees—

"Harry! Harry!" He could hear Dumbledore's voice but he couldn't answer it.

"_Now. Let me see." He gripped Snape's left wrist tight in his fingers, tightening until he could feel every spasm of pain and the slightest tremble of fear. "We just have to wait a moment..."_

_Snape was trying to pull his hand away, and he knew that Snape was afraid. "There is nothing to be frightened of...you know it is simply in your duty, to do this!"_

_He pulled back Snape's sleeve, looking at the Dark Mark engraved into his arm. "You belong to me." He rested the cold metal point of the needle against the tattoo. _

"_Please, my Lord, don't do this..."_

"_I like to hear you beg." Power swept through his veins. He stabbed the needle into Snape's arm._

"Harry!"

The images disappeared. There was a hand on his forehead. He looked up at Dumbledore, who pulled his hand away. "Better?" He asked—and Harry nodded, shaking violently. "Snape..."

"Yes, we heard." Dumbledore replied. "You need to relax."

"He needs help. Voldemort is torturing him..."

Dumbledore took in a deep breath, "It's not that simple, Harry. Please, just take a moment."

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Harry gasped, "He..."

"Severus is fine. He knows what he is doing." Dumbledore helped Harry down onto a chair. "It's important that you calm down."

"Voldemort is really hurting him." Harry said vehemently, "He needs someone to help him..."

"We can't; he will be exposed. His position is important. We will wait for him to come back as normal."

"What if he doesn't come back? Voldemort is angry; I could feel it!"

Dumbledore looked at him. His expression was dark. But he didn't reply.


	4. Snape's Return

**Too Deep:**

_A short chapter; do not fear, for the next chapter is a good one._

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**Chapter Four: Snape's Return**

There was an urgent knock at the door.

"Severus?" Albus answered, and the door was opened.

Severus Snape swept into the office. "I am back."

"So I can see." Dumbledore couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. "Are you all right?" He crossed to him.

"Yes..." Severus answered, raising an eyebrow. "I am well. Why?"

"You don't have to lie to me, Severus..."

"It was an uneventful evening, Headmaster. The meeting was long and laborious, yet nothing particularly tragic." Severus folded his arms over his chest. "You seem more concerned than usual."

"Can I see your hand?" Dumbledore asked, holding out his own.

"Why this interrogation?"

"Because I saw Voldemort torturing you!" Harry shouted—he had been sheltering in a corner of his office, invisible to all. His appearance had almost made Snape jump. He turned his cold black eyes on Harry. "Potter. As far as I am aware, it is past bedtime." His voice was twisted with sarcasm.

"Harry has had a rough night. He saw Voldemort torturing you." Dumbledore stepped in, raising one hand just slightly.

"If Potter had been practicing Occlumency as I had recommended, he would not be bothered by such images." Severus answered with a raised eyebrow. "Needless to say, these images are imaginary."

"They are not! I saw you through his eyes! I saw what he was doing to you!" Harry jumped to his feet.

"Severus. Your hand, if you would not mind."

Severus stared at Harry for a long moment, before putting his hand in Dumbledore's. The Headmaster examined it. "There is no damage?" His voice was questioning.

"No...I spilt a potion on it yesterday—but that was all." He sighed. "Headmaster. I am tired. Please can I retire for the evening?"

"Of course. I shall..." Although it sounded as if he wanted to say more, Dumbledore nodded, "Go. I shall speak to you in the morning."

Snape turned.

"Severus." Dumbledore raised his voice one final time, "Do not lie to me."

Snape paused for one second. "I am not lying. The meeting was uneventful." He disappeared from the room.


	5. Dirt

**Too Deep**

_This chapter is rated T for self abuse._

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**Chapter Five: Dirt**

He pulled the bathroom door to, listening to the satisfying snap as it closed completely. He inserted the key into the lock and turned.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. He listened to his heartbeats, counting them to convince himself that he was calm. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, once, twice, three times.

He crossed to the bath tub and started the hot tap running, switching it to the shower head so that water spurted from the device attached to the wall. He watched the steam dissipate throughout the room, making the air seem heavier.

He tugged at the front of his robes, undoing the fastenings and letting the black material pool to the floor. Still he was focusing on his breathing, trying to feel the sensation of the air filling his lungs and leaving it a moment later.

He pulled down his starched trousers and his underwear, kicking the pile of clothes into a corner. He raised his right leg and climbed into the bath, pushing his whole body under the shower.

He did not cry out when the scalding water hit his skin; his breathing only quickened slightly. He found it almost soothing. He could feel once more. Something was penetrating the numbness.

He reached over to his right, fingers closing around the stiff nail brush resting against the tap head. He picked it up and looked at it. Holding it under the thrashing water flushed droplets of red, droplets that had lain there since the night before. He screwed his nose up slightly. Blood was human. He didn't care for it.

He glanced at his skin. He saw the dirt. Layers upon layers of brown dirt.

"_You are tainted with my touch. Does that make you feel dirty?"_

He pushed the bristles onto the skin.

"_Dirt. That is all you are."_

He scrubbed at the skin violently, again and again, yet still there was nothing. The dirt would not come off. He moved the brush to his thigh. Still he was stained. Tainted.

"_Dirty."_

He pulled the bush away and stared at the brown marks across his skin. A strange sensation choked his throat. He fought the feeling back.

He turned his head and let the pounding water cover his face. He tried to take a breath in and found it difficult. How much longer was this going to last?

"_Let's just cover this up, shall we?"_

He felt the trembles start across his body and he couldn't bear it. He clambered back over the side of the bath, lurching towards the sink, raising his head to look in the mirror.

He saw only dirt.

He smashed the mirror with a curled fist and grabbed the nearest bottle he could find. He uncorked it and swallowed the green liquid, not knowing what it was or what it could do to him.

"_Poor, poor Severus. Totally defenceless. Can you feel it, pounding through your veins? The drug? My drug?"_

He slumped to his knees, wrapping his arms around his shins.

"_Tell me, how does it feel?"_

He moaned as his stomach started to churn. He buried his head out of sight, trying to block out the touching.

"_We can't have anyone suspecting, now, can we? Let's conceal the damage. You will return tomorrow."_

He watched the wand waved above his forehead.

"_No one would believe you if you were to say anything. You deserve it, remember?"_

He sobbed.

"_Tomorrow I think you can be left for the others. They need blood, Severus. You can provide it."_

He shivered.

"_Until then. We have unfinished business, do we not?"_

He remembered.

And he screamed. But there was no one to hear him.


	6. Someone Else's Eyes

**Too Deep**

_SS19 is not in a good place at the moment. Work infuriates her, and the feeling of being trapped only exacerbates her bad mood. Therefore...Severus Snape is suffering._

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**Chapter Six: Someone Else's Eyes**

They bound his hands and threw him to his knees in the centre of the circle. He raised his head, just slightly, but his eyes were unfocused. That was the drug pounding through his veins.

They laughed and they spat at him.

They pulled his head back sharply and shouted into his face. He did not wince.

They drew their wands.

They could make him bleed. They could make him cry out.

They could expose his flesh and make him weep.

But no matter what they did, the worst was always yet to come.

For they were nothing compared to the Dark Lord.


	7. Dumbledore's Affections

**Too Deep**

_WATCH OUT! RATED FOR FLASHBACKS._

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**Chapter Seven: Dumbledore's Affections**

"Severus, come in. I am glad you agreed to see me. I know you must be tired, but I feel this is important. Please sit down."

"Headmaster."

"Harry has been having nightmares again. I am concerned that what he is seeing is real. Why else would he, pardon my expression, be dreaming...of you?"

"I have insisted that Potter studies Occlumency when he is not in my lessons. He is ignoring this advice; therefore, his mind is vulnerable to whatever passing fancies the Dark Lord may have."

"But why would he see Voldemort torturing you, unless it is real?"

"Headmaster. These images are nothing but fantasy. Perhaps the Dark Lord chooses to indulge Potter, to show him the meaning of true power, by inflicting such pain to someone that he knows Potter...dislikes. Mutually, of course."

_He coughed and spluttered, rolling onto his side. He had heard the footsteps. He needed to flee. He needed to escape. Yet his body would not respond. Even if he tried, it would be hopeless._

"I accept what you are saying, Severus, but...there is something not right. You are not right. I can see that."

"_Severus. I see that our friends were not kind to you. Tell me, dear servant, did you deserve such treatment?"_

"_You may be the judge of that, my Lord."_

"_I am the judge of it. And I say...you did deserve it."_

"In what way, Headmaster?"

"_Let's see." A hand brushed against his cheek. "You certainly deserved some sort of torment." He was lifted from the ground, unable to support his own weight. "Did they make you hurt?"_

"I cannot place my finger upon it. You seem...vulnerable. A shadow of your former self."

"_I can do much worse. You know that, don't you." The hand travelled down his throat to the divide where torn material ended and bare chest began. The fingers were cold._

"_Don't..."_

"I am tired, Headmaster, that is all."

"Are you sure?"

"_Try to convince me that you do not want this, Severus. I know you."_

"Of course."

_The hand was tormenting him, worse than what the other Death Eaters had dealt. He felt his breathing quicken, far beyond his control._

"_Please..."_

"And you would tell me, dear boy, if he was hurting you? I would try to help."

"_What can you do to stop me? Who would you tell? Who would believe you, when there is no damage to see?"_

"_Please, do not do this. I can't..."_

_A tut, against his ear. "You're pathetic."_

_He nodded his head, agreeing entirely._

"Headmaster, I am fine."

"I cannot afford to lose you, Severus. This war cannot afford to lose you. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you are fine."

"_I find your company boring, tonight, Severus." A wand was drawn and placed against his cheek. "Perhaps we both need a little stimulation?"_

"Severus?"

"_What do you say?"_

_He knew that all hope was lost. He closed his eyes, turning his head away._

"_Wrong answer."_

"Severus? Are you going to answer your question?"

_And later, when everything was finished, the sky was midnight black. The Dark Lord pushed Severus to his feet. "You look unblemished. Excellent. No one will guess. But don't forget, my hold over you. I will see you tomorrow. Don't even suggest that you are totally at my mercy, Severus, or I will make things...worse...for you."_

He raised his eyes and stared straight at Dumbledore's blue gaze. "I am fine, Headmaster."


	8. Damned

**Too Deep**

_Oh yes. SeverusSnape19's name will be mud after this chapter. Enjoy, everyone._

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**Chapter Eight: Be Damned**

He took his place in the circle. He folded his arms and tried to hide his anxiety. Every night was torture. He had so far survived detection from the Headmaster. He hated lying to the one he called a mentor, but what choice did he have? He could not let Albus know...what was being done to him. He could not show him how tainted and dirty he was, for the Headmaster would never understand. He would hate him.

Severus could not bear that. So he would take the torment. He would let the Dark Lord cover every single lesion, every single bruise, every single tear. He would let the Dark Lord have this one triumph.

For what was he? Really? He was nothing.

A spy who was in too deep. This was his lot. This was all he had—the Dark Lord could torment him, but at least he had the information for the Headmaster to make it worth every fight.

It was worth every touch, every slash of the wand, every time he pleaded with Voldemort not to hurt him anymore.

Voldemort turned to face his followers. "I have received the most delicious piece of information." He announced. "I must say, at first, I was horrified, that someone would commit such a sin. But, have no fear, loyal followers, for the culprit will be punished. But." He paused for effect. "Allow me to explain. I have received knowledge that someone is teaching Harry Potter how to shield his mind from me."

Shit.

"Someone in this circle, in fact. Someone who has sworn their allegiance to me is fighting to defend my greatest enemy." Voldemort started to pace, around the back of the circle. "Someone...someone that I should be able to trust."

He paused again.

He stopped pacing.

"Something you wish to tell me...Severus?"


	9. Revealed

**Too Deep**

**Chapter Nine: Revealed**

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"On your knees."

Severus was pushed down onto the floor. The Dark Lord swept behind him, and stood before him. "Severus. Severus...Snape...I expect you to have some sort of excuse for the allegation that I have just made..."

Severus looked up at him. "It is true that I am teaching the Potter boy Occlumency." He said softly.

Voldemort stared at him, almost surprised. "You admit this?"

"It was Dumbledore's orders. As he is so inept at the art, I felt it worthless to mention here."

Voldemort smirked. He bent forward, his lips very close to Severus' ear, allowing him to whisper, "I know something else that is worthless..." He lingered in Snape's private space for the moment too long, watching Severus flinch. "Someone."

He pulled away, "The rest of you will leave us." He announced. "I want to see if Severus has any more...secrets...waiting to be revealed."

Snape stared forward at the wall, trying to keep his face impassive. The Dark Lord really did delight in this treatment, how he forced Severus to be submissive, not knowing the real reason why Severus allowed it, but enjoying it anyway.

As soon as they were alone, Voldemort grabbed Severus's hair and dragged him toward a chair. He threw his prisoner into the embrace of the dark wood, leaning close. "You're a fool, Severus. Do you seek to anger me?"

"No." Severus responded, but he knew it wasn't worth trying to fight any further.

"Tell me, Severus, are you indispensable to Dumbledore? Do you think he would miss you, if you were gone?" Voldemort pushed Severus' head back against the chair, letting his fingers brush against Snape's throat. "Shall I send him back to you in one piece?"

His breathing quickened.

"Unless you are deliberately disobedient so you gain my attentions..."

Severus could have been sick at the thought.

"But don't worry." Voldemort smiled. "By the end of the night, Severus, you won't have to worry about being...disobedient...again."


	10. Nothing To Fear

**Too Deep**

**Chapter Ten: Nothing To Fear**

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Albus Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, leaning his head back against his armchair and allowing himself a contented smile. He had reassured Harry that his dreams were just images, after Severus had finally convinced him that he was in no danger.

The young Potions Master was constantly surprising him; this meant that their relationship was never ordinary, not that it could be. The way it had been formed—and the way it was maintained—Severus always found a way to confuse him; sometimes he was very distant, and the next day he could be desperate for some sort of social attention.

Recently, he had been very withdrawn—but, as Severus had assured him, it was simply stress. He was tired, after all, and Albus wanted to help him. He thought that no longer pestering

He loved Severus like a student—sometimes more than that—and he had been worried. But Severus wasn't able to lie to him, of that, Dumbledore was sure. He just let his young spy do his duties, and stayed close so that if the boy needed him, he would be there.

Tonight, however, he could relax. He turned his head and looked out at the sunset, the sky blood red as the sun almost disappeared. He knew that Severus was worried—but for once, he was not concerned. He had to find some distance, otherwise he would worry about everyone—constantly—and what help was he to anyone then?

So he didn't feel any guilt when he let his eyes drift closed and sleep consumed him.


	11. Spy Action

**Too Deep**

_Dedicated to Miss Kati. I adore thee—and I am so glad you are enjoying this story. _

_To all SS19 fans; please follow me on Twitter (MissS19). The Dark Lord commands it! And...I hear he can turn rather nasty if he is disobeyed...heh heh._

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Chapter 11: Spy Action**

Severus watched the Dark Lord pace in front of him. His throat was dry, and it was hard to swallow. He was fighting to keep his breathing level—but he would not show fear. If this was to be his end, then he would meet it with as much nobility and dignity as the situation warranted. He liked how that sounded so confident in his head. Unfortunately, he was also very aware of how dangerous and perverted the Dark Lord could be. He would have to fight to keep his life—and his position—safe.

"I must say, Severus, I am surprised. I did not think you could stand to be in the same _room_ as Harry Potter...let alone teach him the intimate art of Occlumency."

Severus raised his eyes. "As I explained, my Lord, it was Dumbledore's suggestion."

"Yes, you say that. I understand that. What I want to know is...why would you concede?" Voldemort turned and faced Severus, folding his arms. "Choose your words carefully, Severus, for I am rather angry...which means I am willing to make you pay for your actions."

He took a deep breath in before continuing. "My Lord, no harm can come to Potter whilst he is under Dumbledore's protection. What else could I do?"

"You were given access to Harry Potter, alone, _asked _to invade the inner corners of his mind—and you chose to _help _him?" The tone was low—and threatening.

"I saw nothing of any worth, my Lord."

"And as I have explained to you, Severus, I see something of very little _worth_ before me now. Tell me...why should I spare you? You have been nothing but a _failure_ as of late."

"There is a reason for that!" The words had left his mouth before he could stop to think and formulate them properly.

Voldemort took a step forward. "I beg your pardon?"

Severus wasn't sure how to rectify this situation—so instead of trying to retract his words, he cast his eyes down to the floor in what he hoped was a show of modesty.

Unfortunately, Voldemort had realised what Severus was referring to. "Oh." He murmured, raising one hand. "You are referring to my recent treatment of you, of course."

"You have yet to give me a good reason why..." He knew his words were thoughtless, but if he was going to die here, then so be it. He had always been the one to speak his mind to the Dark Lord—and the things that Voldemort had done to him recently were beyond understanding or reasoning.

Voldemort looked at him for a long moment. "Because...I wanted to?" He answered. "What right do you have to question my decisions, Severus? You are my servant—you obey my command." He reached for his wand. "I was bored, Severus. I feel trapped here—and I needed power. I get that when someone submits to me. Which you have—and shall continue to do so—until I decide that I am weary of you."

Hatred, hot and fiery, thundered through his veins. How dare the Dark Lord use him in such a way? He had torn Severus to pieces, tested vile potions on him that had altered his concepts of reality and life, forced him to plead for mercy and degrade himself in ways that he could not understand. He was so angry, he could destroy the Dark Lord where he stood.

"Does that infuriate you?" Voldemort teased. "Knowing that what I did was for entertainment purposes alone? I tell you, Severus, you made a fine opponent—but every man has his breaking point. Have we reached yours?"

"I am in your service, my Lord." Severus fought to keep his voice level. He had to think of the greater good, he had to think of what he was going to achieve, he had to think of Dumbledore and the need for them to win this war.

"Yes you are. Does that give me the right, therefore, to treat you in such a way? Does that give me the right to touch you in the way that I have? Does that give me the power to force you to beg me not to hurt you? You are servant, Severus—but does that mean that you are mine completely?"

Severus felt his jaw tighten—he shouldn't be letting the words get to him, but the memories were too much.

"You know the answer I am looking for." Voldemort folded his arms.

"No. You do not have that right." Severus answered. "No one has that right."

"Not even your precious Dumbledore?" Voldemort was making a direct challenge. "Tell me, Severus, does your loyalty lie in my camp—or in his? Helping Potter with Occlumency. I doubt you, Severus."

Severus looked away.

"Oh. He does not know, does he? He does not know what you have been through. He does not know what I have been—am—doing to you." He leaned forward. "And you are afraid of what he will think...of you...should you tell him." He smiled, a cruel and hideous smirk. "I suppose that means you really are at my mercy, after all."

Severus leapt to his feet, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at the Dark Lord. "I am not at your mercy."

"Yes, you are." Voldemort did not draw his own weapon. "What now? Will you attempt to kill your master, servant?"

Severus' hand shook. "You are twisted."

"Strike me, Severus, and I will make your life unbearable. How much further can you go?"

"I could kill you." Severus responded, "I could destroy you."

"You belong at my feet. That we both know. You do not belong with Dumbledore, who is blinded—he has not noticed how hurt you are—what sort of man is that? You are not loyal to him, Severus."

"The things you have done..."

"To you?"

Severus did not answer, narrowing his eyes.

"I was beginning to think you enjoyed my attention."

"No!" Severus waved his wand—fire erupted from the end—which the Dark Lord deflected almost casually. He slashed his hand, and suddenly it seemed as though the floor was pulled from beneath Severus' feet. He hit the ground on his hands and knees—the Dark Lord was there in a moment, kicking him in the ribs and forcing him to roll onto his back. He stamped his foot carelessly into Severus' stomach, causing the other to recoil. "Not your most intelligent move of the night, Severus." Voldemort whispered harshly.

He picked up Severus' wand, pressing it to Severus' neck, kneeling next to him. "Why would you do that, Severus? Attack me? Did you think you would win?"

Severus shook his head. "No."

"Desperation, then." He brushed Severus' hair back from his cheek, "I didn't know you would fall apart so easily." He let his wand rest against Severus' chest, above his heart. "You would be so easy to kill, Severus. Just a mortal." He paused. "Will you plead for your life?"

"No."

"You deny me that privilege? This is foolish, Severus. As your master, I own that right." He smiled, leaning down so he could whisper into his ear. "And now...you will be punished..."

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_**And...that's where you come in. Yes...you. In a review, please leave your suggestions for just how Voldemort decides to punish Severus...and the best suggestion will be written into the next chapter. You have until Sunday morning. Good luck—I cannot wait to see what you come up with...**_


	12. Capiam Vestri Templum Part One

**Too Deep**

_SS19 thanks you all for your suggestions for this chapter; she hopes that you are happy with the outcome!_

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****Chapter 12: Capiam Vestri Templum, Part One.**

Lord Voldemort smiled.

He drew away from Severus and walked toward the other side of the room, leaving Severus to pick himself up from the floor. He watched the Dark Lord reach for something on his desk, wondering if this was a dismissal.

"I have something here." Voldemort announced finally, turning back to Severus. He was holding a book, open in his palm. "It should ensure that you remember your place, in future."

He waved his wand and Severus was thrown back into the chair. Black ropes slithered around his wrists and ankles, binding him to the dark wood. He straightened his back, trying not to wince as the ropes tightened unbearably.

"I like you much better when restrained, Severus. You can be unpredictable." Voldemort looked down at the book again, for the briefest of moments. "This will certainly be...interesting."

Severus was trying not to show fear—but his heartbeat had increased and his breathing sharpened. He pulled against the binds, but they were unyielding. He was losing feeling in his hands.

"They won't let you go until I tell them." Voldemort said casually. He walked past Severus and placed the book down where Severus couldn't see it—although that didn't stop him trying.

"You don't need to see this, Severus, for I am going to fully explain what I am going to do to you..."

That was enough to send the shiver down Severus' spine. He cast his attention forward, staring at the wall.

Voldemort pulled Severus' head back by his hair, looking down into the pale face. "Are we frightened?" He whispered softly. Severus simply looked at him, which made Voldemort laugh. "Indeed." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps I will blind you then?"

Severus stiffened—he liked to be able to see—he needed it—Voldemort pointed his wand between Severus' eyes, "I think you are frightened now." He gently waved the wand, and black shadows crossed Severus' gaze—he closed his eyes, unwilling to let them near his eyes.

"I would keep them shut, if I were you. Just...either way, you are submerged in total darkness now." Voldemort's voice was soft—how Severus hated that tender note, as if Voldemort were speaking to a lover. "Stereotypical, taking away the sight. But I think it heightens the other senses...especially...touch..."

Something icy cold rested against Severus' throat. He flinched.

"Exactly. I'll leave you to wonder what it is."

Severus tried to steady his breathing—but the fear was starting to fester. He really wanted to be somewhere else—Hogwarts—where he was safe. Away from this...

Away from him.

Voldemort's finger rested against Severus' collar, touching the slightly exposed skin. "I could kill you, Severus, you realise? No one would ever know. I doubt that anyone would miss you..."

Severus could track the movement of the finger—it dragged across his shoulder and along his collarbone, until it rested on his chest.

Or more specifically, on the top button of his robes.

It could not be this again. Severus felt the memories return to him—he frowned, trying to block them out.

"I believe I left my mark last time, Severus. Now I intend to leave something more...tangible."

The top button was undone.

"I prefer it when you try to make some conversation, Severus. I can tell so much about how you are feeling...just from how you speak to me."

The second button.

"Still nothing?" His nail scraped against cold skin. "Shame."

The third button.

"Do you think silence is strong? Is that what you believe? Severus..it only brings you more torment, surely? Because a tormentor wants a reaction. They will keep pushing and pushing until there is such a reaction." Voldemort's voice was low.

He pulled Severus' robes apart, exposing the bare chest. "You are rather thin, Severus, has anyone ever told you?"

Severus felt the cold—it had to be metal—rest against his skin. "What are you going to do?"

"A spell, nothing more." Voldemort replied, "It shouldn't hurt. Much."

"Then I request that I am at least able to see." Severus answered, his voice biting. Tied to a chair with his shirt half removed—he did not feel like offering much respect.

He heard Voldemort laugh. "Indeed."

Suddenly light dazzled his vision—he turned his head away, waiting for focus to return. He let his gaze settle on Voldemort, who watched him for a moment. He was holding a knife.

His breath caught in his chest, causing him to frown. "A blood spell?"

"Nearly." Voldemort enjoyed teasing. "There will be blood."

"What are you going to do?" He repeated his earlier question—and his voice had hitched. Voldemort grinned hideously at him. "You'll see."

"Not even a hint?" Severus mumbled.

Voldemort pressed the point of the blade to Severus' chest. "Do not anger me, Severus, for that would be rather foolish."

He let his breath out between his teeth.

"I want you to have a physical reminder, Severus, of who you belong to. You have your Mark, yes. But that is not enough for me. Not when it concerns you. Sometimes you seem to be very disobedient—"

He hated being spoken to as if he were a small child.

"So we're going to add something else to you. It will have...side effects...of course..." Without warning, he moved the blade to just under Severus' heart, and pressed the point into the skin. Severus winced and gasped in pain, watching vital red fluid flood the paper white skin. He watched Voldemort drag the knife down in a straight line, deep enough to cut through muscle, before withdrawing the knife.

"I'm sorry." Voldemort said with a wicked smile. "Did that hurt?" He chuckled at his own statement, before stabbing the knife back into the wound he had just made. Although he was being careful not to kill Severus, it still hurt—and the other heard himself moan.

"Such a pretty noise." Voldemort murmured. He pulled the knife back in a diagonal line away from the cut, and then back toward it—drawing a triangle on top of a straight line. Voldemort wrenched the knife away.

He examined the blade with morbid curiosity for a short moment—glancing at Severus, who after looking at the carving on his chest, met the red gaze—and licked the blood from the silver blade. He put the knife down, licking his lips, "Now to cast the spell."

He leaned close to Severus and whispered a word that Severus did not know. Severus winced, seeing his own blood staining Voldemort's lips. "What will it do?" He murmured, not bothering to hide his fear.

Voldemort moved so he could murmur straight into Severus' ear. "Capiam vestri templum."

"What does that mean?" Severus demanded. Voldemort waved his wand at the chair, and the ropes loosened. He raised one eyebrow at Severus, before turning away. "You can go."

"What is going to happen?"

Voldemort did not reply.

Severus did not wait. He pulled his robes back around him, covering the still bleeding wound, and walked from the room.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, he collapsed into bed, exhausted beyond belief. He had avoided the Headmaster—he was not even sure whether to reveal what had happened and how the Dark Lord knew about the Occlumency—and needed to rest. He slumped beneath the covers, his eyes closing before he could stop them. He surrendered himself to the oblivion that sleep provided.


	13. Capiam Vestri Templum Part Two

**Chapter 12: Capiam Vestri Templum, Part Two.**

He awoke slowly the next morning. He turned over, feeling numbness in the arm that had been crushed by his weight over the hours that he had been dreaming. He opened his eyes, letting a contented sigh pass between his lips.

And that was when the realisation started to dawn on him. He had slept. Actually, deeply, totally...slept.

He hadn't been woken by nightmares.

He sat up straight in bed. When was the last time he had slept so well?

He stood up, feeling surprised. Was this real?

Perhaps it had been the relief of returning to Hogwarts where he was safe—so much time had been spent dreading what the Dark Lord would say next, his instincts on constant alert, such confusion and anxiety...his body had had to give in at some point.

Returning home to what he called his sanctuary had clearly been good for him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look any better for such a deep sleep—his eyes fell on his bare chest, and the mark that marred it.

What was that? Was it just a mark? The Dark Lord had mentioned side effects. What would they be? Was it like another Dark Mark, that when he was wanted, caused terrible pain?

A method of communication, perhaps?

He turned away, pulling a shirt on and covering the mark. He was safe here. Hogwarts was the one place that he could not be harmed—not while he was under the protection of Albus Dumbledore.

He was much like Potter in that respect.

He skipped breakfast, mainly to avoid a confrontation with said Headmaster, who would demand to know why he had been Summoned last night and not returned until very late. He had a lesson to teach first thing, and he needed to prepare.

He quite liked this group of students. They were quiet, and had finally adjusted to his high standards of work and precision. He let them start making their potion, content enough to let them talk quietly to each other.

Prowling the classroom, he could examine the work that was being carried out and offer comments if it so pleased him. At least here, in his classroom, he was in command. He decided what activities were carried out, and who spoke when. He hated the unpredictable nature of the Dark Lord; he could be pleasant one moment and then merciless the next. A man like Severus needed control over his surroundings and what happened to him.

One of the students called out his name, asking for his help. He turned, and picked up the vial they offered to him.

But it slipped through his fingers.

He didn't hear the glass hit the floor and shatter.

He didn't smell the pungent scent of the acid.

He could only stare at his hand—shaking, uncontrollably.

And then there was a voice, calling his name. "Severus..."

He raised his eyes.

And stared straight at Lord Voldemort.


	14. Nightmare

**Too Deep**

_Yay! 50 reviews! This made me so happy that I wrote this!_

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**Chapter 13: Nightmare.**

He staggered backward from Voldemort, shaking his head. "You cannot be here!" He shouted, pointing a shaking hand at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort laughed at him. "Where is here?"

"You cannot be at Hogwarts!" Severus answered, his voice trembling violently. "You cannot..." He gasped, feeling faint.

"Try and fight me now, Severus!" Voldemort replied gleefully, "I have taken your sanctuary."

"I will get the Headmaster..." His chest was tight. "I will...stop you..."

"I don't think he's going to listen to you, Severus." Voldemort answered. He took a deliberate step forward.

He tried to back away, but he hit something hard behind him and felt his muscles begin to freeze. "No..."

_The needle of the syringe stabbing into his veins, filling them with the drug that the Dark Lord had worked so hard to perfect._

His stomach churned and his vision was blurred. "Stop...please..."

_The fingers raking through his hair, exposing his neck. Hot lips pressing against his pale skin._

He couldn't breathe. He blinked the black spots away from his eyes.

_The hand on his thigh._

"Stop!" He cried, reaching out a hand. "Don't do this to me..."

"Are you going to beg me?"

"...You...can't..."

"Severus!" That was a new voice. He knew it—he recognised it—but—he turned his head and stared at the Headmaster.

Except.

Albus Dumbledore lurched toward him, staggering on legs that could not hold themselves upright. Severus backed away, fear quickening his breathing.

Albus Dumbledore was dead. His eyes were open—but the blue was glassy. His robes were falling apart, covered in dust and dirt and neglect. His skin was grey and decaying—parts were corroded away entirely and he could see blood and muscle and bare bone. Patches of hair and beard were lost. The expression was gormless and cold. A scaly hand reached out toward him and he cried out, "No! Stay away from me!"

He backed off, his breathing too fast and his heart pounding in his chest. "Please...don't..."

"Look at what you caused..." Albus Dumbledore—or whatever this...person...was—howled. Severus felt himself collapse to his knees, curling in tighter on himself. "Look at...what you did..."

Severus felt the sobs gather in his throat, "Don't hurt me..." He whispered, but he could not draw his eyes away from Dumbledore. "Headmaster..." This wasn't...what was happening...he wanted the real Headmaster...

"Look at what you did." Dumbledore repeated, and finally Severus looked around him.

And he saw only death.

Children. Pale and cold and still. All around him.

Thousands of them.

And he could hear weeping.

So much crying and so much screaming.

He clamped his hands to his ears and tried to block them out but they got past his defences and filled his mind and they were deafening to him. "Stop it..." He hunched his shoulders, rocking to and fro, trying to make them stop.

His heartbeat increased tenfold as Dumbledore stepped forward. The blackened and decomposed fingers reached out to touch his face. And he tried to get away but he couldn't move because the drug in his veins was too much.

He felt his breaths catch in his chest—and there was agonising pain across his ribcage—and then the blackness consumed him.

And Severus Snape knew no more.

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_Wow. That was certainly something to write. You will pleased to know that I had a long drink of water afterward to calm my raging heart. As I had to go through the same torment as Severus imagining the same image that he saw. I hope you enjoyed—and—there will be three more chapters after this. Much love. _


	15. Necessity

**Too Deep**

**Chapter Fourteen: Necessity**

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"What was it, Albus?"

"I'm not sure—stress, perhaps. He has been under so much pressure recently."

"But a seizure of such intensity? He is lucky his heart did not give out. He was more than terrified."

"I don't know, Poppy. But I have the feeling he has been keeping something from us. Did your tests identify anything?"

"No. He seems to be in good health—half starved, but that is typical Severus. But it didn't pick anything else up."

"He's stirring."

"He can probably hear us talking."

"Would you leave me with him, just for a few moments?"

"Of course. He might be disorientated. He won't know where he is—we just have to hope he doesn't remember what happened..."

His eyes flicked opened and he stared up at the white ceiling. He could hear receding footsteps, across a stone floor. He was lying down, head supported by white pillows. He couldn't feel the ends of his fingers. He swallowed, and his throat was dry. His mouth tasted funny. He forced his eyes to focus, and he moved his head slightly.

"Welcome back." Albus said softly, looking down at him through concerned blue eyes. "That was quite a scare, Severus."

Severus jolted fully conscious, staring up at Dumbledore. "You're not...you're not..." He couldn't conjure a word, but he could still see, right before his eyes, the Dumbledore with the decaying skin and the scaly hand. He felt his body begin to tremble violently through fear—

"Child. Calm down." Albus said softly. "You have to be careful; you gave your body quite a shock."

"I'm fine." The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. "It was nothing."

Albus stared at him. "Nothing?" He repeated.

"Yes—stress. Overwork." He sat up—his limbs screamed at him, and his vision coloured. He blinked, frowning. "I..."

"Severus. You must not lie to me. I know that there is more to this than meets the eye—you had a very vivid hallucination in a Potions' lesson—you practically died from fright, I was there! Something is very wrong."

"I'm fine. It was nothing. I did not sleep well last night. That is all." Severus pulled away, planning to stand up. "I might return to my office..."

"Severus..." Dumbledore reached out and touched Severus' knee—and the other flinched away violently. Albus stared at him, "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

Severus stared at him. "I'm going back to my office." He stood and forced his body to remain upright. "Thank you for your concern." He forced his lips to curve into something he hoped resembled a smile, before leaving the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore watched him leave, hearing Poppy's voice behind him. "Where does he think he is going?"

Dumbledore turned concerned blue eyes on her. "Give him time. I think Severus might come back to us."

* * *

Severus locked his office door and leaned against the wood, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He was not feeling well—but he couldn't stay trapped in that Hospital Wing. He needed somewhere to recover by himself.

The silence was crushing. He listened to his breathing, reassuring himself that he was still conscious. He needed...

He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. This could not continue. How could he continue to live like this? Waiting for the burn on his arm, knowing that it would bring such torment, and not telling anyone? If he told someone, could they help?

He bit his lip. Who did he have? Who could possibly understand what had been done to him? Who would listen and not judge? Who could cleanse the dirt away?

He rested one hand against his chest, where the cruel mark was carved into his skin. He pulled the shirt down and stared at it, willing it to disappear. A mark that showed that the Dark Lord had control over him. He had been here, in Hogwarts. He had been where Severus was safe. He had taken everything that Severus had held dear—and now, there was nowhere that he could hide.

He had never felt so helpless.

His lip was bleeding now, but he ignored it. He turned his attention back to the door. He would have to go and find someone. There had to be someone who could understand.

He reached out for the handle, but again, his fingers slipped from the metal knob. He looked down at his hand and saw it shake. "No..." He whispered. This could not happen again. He felt his eyes start to close—and it was suddenly very cold.

He wasn't conscious when he hit the floor.


	16. The Order

**Too Deep**

*raises eyebrows*

~ SS19

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**Chapter Fifteen: The Order**

Did you hear about Snape on Tuesday?" Sirius Black announced at the dining room table in Grimmauld Place, to anyone who might have been listening.

Remus Lupin turned to glance at him, "What about him?"

"Had a fit, apparently, during a Potions lesson. Ended up ranting and raving about things no-one else could see." His tone suggested that Sirius found this vaguely entertaining. Remus was not so impressed. "Sirius! That sounds serious to me!"

"It's nothing. Come on, it's Snape. He's always been a little bit peculiar. Do you remember what that Death Eater they interrogated said? The amount of private time he spent with Voldemort? Clearly he received a little "special treatment" and it has left him "tragically scarred." I don't believe it for a second." Sirius shook his head. "Had Albus shaken up too, according to the student Harry was telling me about―Albus doesn't need any more stress."

"Sometimes I marvel at how unfeeling and sympathetic you can be, Sirius!" Remus ribbed, "Maybe Severus is simply under a little bit too much pressure?"

Sirius stared at him, "Remus, you are going soft in your old age."

They both stopped talking quickly when Albus Dumbledore entered the room, slightly early for the meeting called for Order of the Phoenix members. He seemed preoccupied. "Albus." Remus and Sirius greeted solemnly. He hardly glanced at them, blue eyes darkened by something that was obviously puzzling him.

Slowly, other people started to arrive, and finally Albus was drawn out of his stupor to raise his gaze and look around at the room. Quiet chatter became loud talking as people greeted each other and exchanged pleasantries, or commented on the latest Death-Eater raid.

Sirius drifted away from his conversation with Alastor Moody, looking toward their leader, who was stood behind his chair. The expression on his face was concerned. Sirius counted the people in the room, wondering if Albus was waiting for someone―the meeting was due to start in two minutes―and he realised that there was definitely someone missing.

He glanced back at Albus, who shook his head to himself and looked down at his hands. Sirius started to put things together―if Albus was worried, then this meant that the absence was not planned.

So, if he was missing through reasons that were not already agreed with Albus, then where exactly was Snape?

And why did the emotion on Albus' wizened face chill Sirius straight to his bones?


	17. Thief in the Night

**Too Deep**

_SS19 is now on holiday for a week and will be back next Monday - thank Dumbledore, I am starting to go insane from lack of sleep. There will be much writing during this time though, so have no fear._

_An update, for you all._

_~ SS19_

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**Chapter Sixteen: Thief in the Night**

Harry Potter was ill. He hated having to admit this - but he was. He had caught the dreaded winter flu that struck Hogwarts every year. He had thought his immune system was quite strong, having fallen foul of several illnesses when he had been a child - and he had tried to ignore the tickle in his throat, the lingering headaches and the aches in his limbs for at least three days. This morning, he had woken up with a burning throat, migraine and trembling arms and legs - and Hermione had insisted he go to the Hospital Wing.

So here he was. In bed, tucked up with a hot water bottle that Madame Pomfrey had given him, along with a sleeping draught and some pain relieving potions to help him through the night. They had worked for so long, but it was now early in the morning and he was wide awake, staring across at the window opposite him, trying to decide if it was the moonlight that had woken him or something much more sinister.

He shifted position slightly, drawing a shaky and staggered breath through his blocked nostrils, hating being ill and the fact he was missing classes and gathering much homework and would have to do it all in one night.

He wondered, absently, how double Potions was today. At least he had missed that lesson - although he had been intrigued to see what state his teacher was in. Rumours were rife around the school after Snape's 'collapse' earlier that week, to the chagrin of most of the teachers and Slytherin students. Despite his hatred for his teacher, Harry couldn't help but wonder just what had brought this on, and what the consequences had been. He had not had any more nightmares about Snape and Voldemort, not for a while - and yet, what other explanation could there be?

And he had seen the way Professor Dumbledore was watching Snape at mealtimes. He had seen the concern.

It worried him, too.

He closed his eyes and tried to put the thoughts of Snape from his mind - Snape hated Harry, and Harry hated Snape, and it was no more complicated than that.

There was a strange noise that disturbed him three moments later. His eyes flew open, the silence broken, and his heart pounded in his chest as he wondered what it could be - it was coming from the cupboard where Madame Pomfrey kept her supplies.

But the door to Pomfrey's room was still closed, and Harry assumed the matron was asleep. So what could the noise be? Some creature of the night, causing havoc?

Curiosity piqued, he stood, flinching slightly at the cold floor beneath his bare feet, crossing the room and hovering uncomfortably outside the door.

There was more thudding, and a funny gargling sound that was almost like a groan, or a moan, or a strangled cry. He was convinced that it had to be a pixie or something similar - he rested his hand on the door, ready to pull it open, wondering if going back to get his wand was a good idea.

Shattering glass, a cough, and then silence.

Pixies did not cough, did they? Certainly not in his experience.

He pulled open the door, peering into the darkness of the cupboard, a strong scent of sweat infiltrating his nostrils.

"Hello?" He murmured, looking for the light.

Another long pause.

And then.

"Potter. Don't you _dare..._turn on the...light."

* * *

_See you all in a week - missing you already! ~ SS19_


	18. A Cupboard Interlude

**Too Deep**

_This story is very popular - that rather excites me! I am not quite sure of the ending yet, which I normally know by this point, but bear with me - I am sure I will come up with something! Also, Harry has infiltrated. The darned Potter, he gets everywhere!_

_~ SS19_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: A Cupboard Interlude**

_"Potter. Don't you _dare_ turn on the light."_

Had he not been in a crumpled heap on the floor, Severus Snape would probably have muttered several crude obscenities that only Muggles would understand - how was it that, on the only night he was rummaging through the Hospital Wing store cupboard, downing practically every Pain Relieving Potion he could find, and more besides, Harry Potter happened to be here too? He should have spat something, an insult, threatened to take House points, and then send the boy away. But he was too tired for that. He couldn't even find the energy to stand, let alone be sarcastic.

"Professor?"

Well, that was a start. The use of his respectful title. "Potter."

"Do you need some help?"

Severus should have said no. He should have ignored him. He should have pretended that he was not there. "I do not need any help, thank you, Potter. Now, might I suggest you go back to bed?"

"Well…sir…it sounds like you fell over." So Potter had been listening to him. That was just…fabulous. Fall over. Yes, that was a perfectly fine excuse - he might have tripped over something - that sounded much better than the dizziness that had consumed him followed by the spasms of pain, the darkening of his vision, the fact he could not breathe - and then had woken a minute later with sweat running down his back and lying on the floor, surrounded by broken glass.

"Do you need any help?"

The words surprised Severus. He knew that Potter was a Gryffindor to the very core, and that he would help those in need - but for him to offer to help Severus was…unexpected. He could feel his arms and legs still trembling and he wondered if, perhaps, he could…

"Or I can fetch Madame Pomfrey…"

That settled it. Severus raised his head, "No. Where's the light in this damned cupboard?" To hell with it - Potter had already, unknowingly, seen Severus being tortured, and Severus was sure that he would have been much worse than he was now.

Potter had sourced the light, and the cupboard was suddenly flooded with yellow, flickering brightness. Severus glanced at Potter, who was stood opposite him, watching him where Severus was sat on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest. He was willing his hands to stop trembling, but would not be able to stand until he had regained some strength.

Potter came slightly closer, "What were you looking for?"

Severus supposed he could use the boy - "I need a nausea relieving potion - they are yellow in colour and normally stored on the top shelf."

Potter nodded, turning to look for the potion. Severus rested his head back against the wall, wondering if the thundering between his ears would ever stop. He wished he could sleep. Instead, there were only nightmarish visions of what had happened, and what was to come - and the ever present shadow. The shadow of the Dark Lord, behind his shoulder.

"Here." Potter handed him the vial, and Severus managed to utter two words of gratitude. He swallowed the yellow liquid quickly, almost flinching at the foul taste on his tongue.

Potter continued to stare at him. "You really do not look well, Sir."

"Your observation skills are uncanny, Potter." Severus' tone was biting.

"It was true, then, what I saw." Potter continued, "He was torturing you."

"Indeed - it is no matter - he tortures most people, as I am sure you have realised by now." Severus was beginning to feel his strength return.

"Why didn't you tell Professor Dumbledore? He could help?"

"Potter! Get one thing into your thick skull - I am a spy. It is my duty to attend the Dark Lord's gatherings - and the Headmaster does not need anything else to worry about - get back to bed, before I start taking House points away."

Potter retreated slightly. His eyes narrowed slightly as he did so, but he did not persist any further, and turned away.

Severus let out a sigh of relief, pushing himself to his feet. He glanced down at his hands, closing his eyes momentarily as he considered whether he had the strength to walk to the dungeons.

He opened his eyes again when pain suddenly reverberated through his skeleton and he gripped the wall beside him to stay upright. He looked at his fingers - and recoiled with a gasp, staring at the hand before him.

The skin had transformed - bruises and jagged scars and more recent gashes - he pulled back his sleeve and flinched at the wounds that were appearing across his arm. He could see his own veins, straining against the flesh. He needed his wand.

* * *

When in his office, he picked up his wand, and pressed it to his arm. He tried to utter a spell that would conceal the damage once more, trying to remember how the Dark Lord had done it, but remembering that he had been only half conscious at the time. But he could not - the damage was too great - he looked up, across the room.

And saw his reflection, in the mirror.

He staggered closer, seeing his own face lined with injuries - the paleness of his skin - the dark circles under his eyes - the gaunt, hollow cheeks. He undid the front of his shirt, pulling the material aside, and stared at…

The evidence of the abuse was almost too much for him, emphasised by the cruel, deep, red scar on his upper torso. What was he to do now? He had been able to pretend - to fight the symptoms, the drugs, the nightmares, because he had not been able to see the damage.

But now…

Sharp agony spread along his left arm. He looked down at the twisting black tattoo.

He pulled himself together, refastening his robes, looking for his Death-Eater uniform…

_"Why didn't you tell Professor Dumbledore? He could help?"_

Severus had lied. He knew why he had not told the Headmaster.

The Headmaster would never understand.


	19. Back Into Darkness

**Too Deep**

_A short one with a rather nasty twist that leaves me excited about the coming chapters!_

_~ SS19_

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen:**

Harry Potter was headed in only one direction - to Professor Dumbledore's office. It was morning now, and he was able to leave the Hospital Wing - and although he had not told Madame Pomfrey about her midnight visitor even when she had discovered the potions smashed and had furiously blamed Peeves, he was determined to tell Dumbledore that Snape was in trouble. He was not even sure why he was particularly interested…but he had seen Snape being tortured and he had heard Snape's pleas and he had felt something other than hatred - it was sympathy, perhaps even pity. Pity, for Snape? Harry could have laughed at himself, had he not been so worried - what if Voldemort managed to kill Snape? Then where would the Order of the Phoenix be, without a spy? He uttered the password to the office and started up the spiral staircase. The pleading had haunted his thoughts since he had first heard them, in Snape's mind, during that Occlumency lesson. How could Snape be brought down so far? He seemed so powerful and in control and certainly untouchable.

"Come in." The response to his knock on the door - he wondered if Dumbledore knew who it was simply from the knocking, "Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"Ah, Harry - I was about to look for you myself." Harry could see shadows under Dumbledore's eyes and knew that something was wrong. "What is it?"

"Well - I was just wondering if you had seen Professor Snape, this morning?"

Harry paused, "No - I saw him last night - in the Hospital Wing - he seemed very unwell - but he went back to his office. There's more. I thought…for a moment…he was covered in injuries. Old ones, not just new ones." He watched Dumbledore, "Why would I have seen him?"

"I meant…if you had perhaps had access to Voldemort's mind." Dumbledore sighed, "Professor Snape left last night - and he has not come back, as yet. It is not yet late enough for me to alert the Order - but I am concerned. He is in no fit state to entertain Lord Voldemort."

Harry voiced the one concern that had bothered him for nearly three weeks, "What if Voldemort kills him?"

"That is not my initial concern, Harry." Dumbledore stood and looked out of the window. "My main worry is - what if Voldemort _breaks _him?"

* * *

He was feeling particularly groggy, this morning. His head was killing him, and he wondered what time it was. He turned his face to one side, eyes flickering open, and then closed once more as light blinded him. He frowned and moaned something soft under his breath, and then could hear footsteps. A hand touched the side of his cheek, against his jawline, and he leaned into the gesture as he struggled to return to an awake state. He let his eyes open again, slower this time, and shapes started to form around him. A red carpet, dark walls, a post next to him that suggested he was in a four poster bed - a warm blanket and soft pillows and something that felt like a bandage across his forehead. There was a figure sat on the bed beside him - very white skin and dark robes - but he wasn't quite sure who…

"Severus? Welcome back to the land of the living."

He knew the voice. "…My Lord…" He frowned and gasped as something akin to pain hit him. Hard. "What happened?"

"Well - last night - you attended one of our gatherings, collapsed and hit your head rather hard." Lord Voldemort murmured gently, his voice quiet, "I can imagine you have quite the headache, this morning."

Severus nodded despite himself, looking down at his hands and seeing a large amount of damaged skin, "Did I…did I offend you, my Lord?"

Voldemort - if it was Voldemort because Severus wasn't sure - looked at him, "Pardon?"

Drifting once more, Severus tried to focus properly on his master, "You look different - did you try experimenting with the Horcruxes?"

Voldemort drew his hand away, "What did you say?"

"You said - you were going to try to make a third Horcrux -" Severus groaned again, his throat sore and his vocal chords were scraping against each other and that hurt more. "Did it not work?"

Voldemort looked at him for a long moment, "How old are you, Severus?"

If that question surprised the younger man, he hardly showed it, "Eighteen, my Lord." His consciousness was fading. Voldemort replaced his hand, "Go back to sleep, Severus. You need to rest."

He watched as Severus drifted back into sleep, and then stared at him - that was no lie, from Severus. He could feel confusion and genuine dedication flowing in waves from the younger wizard. It could only be temporary - Severus had, quite simply, fainted during the meeting last night, due to the delight of many of his peers and the slight concern of Voldemort, who really did not need a dead Severus - he needed Severus alive. So Voldemort had dismissed the meeting and picked his unconscious follower up, putting him to bed and making sure he at least woke up. And now, he did not know who he was.

Or rather. He was nothing more than the teenager Voldemort had so easily corrupted, all those years ago. There would be no relationship with Albus Dumbledore - he would not know who Harry Potter was - and quite simply, he was innocent of betraying Voldemort. Voldemort straightened his back and grinned to himself, brushing a hand against Severus' hair - after all the fighting and the torture and the torment…it seemed Severus had simply fallen into Voldemort's waiting arms…


	20. Calm Before A Storm?

**Too Deep**

_Oh my goodness. Severus does not remember who he is? BUT WHAT ABOUT HIS ALLEGIANCE TO DUMBLEDORE?_

_Would someone please think about DUMBLEDORE?_

_I wonder if things are about to get nasty?_

_~ SS19_

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen:**

When he woke, he felt sore. It seemed to him as if his whole body was burning. He moaned and turned his head to one side, clenching the blankets tightly to try to ride out the pain. What was wrong with him? It was far too warm - but he didn't want to kick the blankets away because he felt like he was shivering and trembling. He blinked and screwed his eyes up when the ceiling span, not sure where he was or why he was there.

A hand pressed to his forehead and he groaned with both pain and relief as the palm was cooler than his burning forehead and it soothed him. He leaned into the touch and took in a small shaky breath, trying to open his eyes again but struggling.

"Severus. You have a fever." That was the Dark Lord's voice. He frowned underneath Voldemort's hand, fighting to open his eyes and look at his master, trying to confirm that he had seen Voldemort earlier and he had looked very different. "My…my Lord…" He tried to focus on Voldemort but his vision was blurred and it was taking far too much effort, "What…what is wrong…"

Voldemort moved closer and sat on the bed next to Severus, "You have not been taking very good care of yourself at all, Severus. You're in fever - here - drink this - it will help." He helped Severus up into his arms and pressed the rim of a glass to Severus' lips, coaxing him to drink the cold liquid that tasted like water with an added ingredient he could not identify in his current state. His hand dropped from the side of the glass and he slumped back against the Dark Lord's chest eyes fluttering closed. He could hear the voice next to his ear becoming more echoic - "You just need to rest, Severus…" - as his consciousness was stolen away.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was watching out of his window once again. Darkness had started to settle, inviting evening to arrive and lead into night. He turned from the windowpane to glance at Fawkes, resting on his perch, seeming close to death and rebirth. "He has been gone a whole day, Fawkes - a whole day - I have such a bad feeling…" He stroked the bird's crest and frowned, looking back toward the glass. "Please, Severus. Please. Come home…"

* * *

"So, where do you think Snape was at dinner?" Ron asked over the top of their Defence Against the Dark Arts essays that they were working on.

Hermione glared at him, "Harry said he had been called - it's obvious where he is." They were working in the mostly abandoned Gryffindor common room, but Harry was finding it hard to concentrate. The chair at the teachers' table had been empty for dinner, as it had been for breakfast, and Professor McGonagall had covered their Potions lesson for that day. Even though he tried to convince himself that he did not care, he was finding it hard not to think about Snape - what if, as Professor Dumbledore feared, Voldemort had broken him? What if he surrendered the location of the Order and the members of the Order? What if Voldemort killed him - then how would they know what Voldemort was doing? He did not wish death on the Potions' teacher, not at the hands of Voldemort - because it would be a terrible way to die. Harry thought he might have seen something - or felt something - if Voldemort had been that angry…he tried to focus once more on his essay but in the end simply put down his quill and stared out at the forest and the grounds of Hogwarts.

* * *

Voldemort pulled the door closed, locked it with a quick spell and started along the corridor, deep in contemplation. He was met by Lucius, who was carrying a potion - "My Lord - you asked for this - for Severus…"

"He won't need it, Malfoy. He won't need any other potions. I will take care of him."

"I thought he had betrayed us, my Lord?" Lucius murmured, and Voldemort turned to face him. "Severus will never betray me again, Lucius. I shall make sure of that."


	21. A Chance for Redemption

**Too Deep**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty:**

"…My Lord…?"

Voldemort glanced up from his book and looked toward the sound that emanated from the figure lying curled up in bed. He stood and crossed to the bed, pressing the now only damp piece of cloth to Severus' sweat stained forehead. "I'm here." He pulled the piece of cloth away, watching as Severus' eyes flickered open and a hazy black gaze focused on Voldemort. Voldemort drew back and sat beside him on the bed, "How are you feeling?"

Severus frowned and straightened his legs, "I'm not sure…"

"Here." Voldemort picked up a phial and tipped it against Severus' lips so the blueish liquid was swallowed by the younger wizard. "It will help with the pain. You should rest."

Severus shook his head, "No…I need…my Lord…what happened? What…did I do?"

"You betrayed me, Severus." Voldemort said after a moment, surprised at the violence of the reaction from Severus - he jerked into a sitting position and stared at his master, who stayed sat on the bed. "Never. Not me, my Lord."

Voldemort had to smile. If this was genuine - and he thought it was - he was speaking to an eighteen year old Severus in a thirty five year old body. But this was important because Severus, the teenage Severus, was loyal to him. He had grown up at Hogwarts, and truly detested anyone associated with the Headmaster and those who stood against him. By the age of eighteen, he had been one of Voldemort's followers for three years and began the transition to something more - by the age of twenty, he was the Dark Lord's lieutenant and advisor, and by twenty one Voldemort's most trusted. At eighteen, he was filled with bloodlust and most importantly potential - he was incredibly powerful - and easy to corrupt and bend to Voldemort's dark will. He truly did care about his Lord, and although Voldemort was not sure if Severus had truly betrayed him…he did not need Severus to know that. Severus, now, knowing that Voldemort did not trust him, would seek redemption by any means - and that meant Voldemort would be able to ask him to do anything. He just needed to be sure about this amnesia. "Severus. Why would I say such a thing if I did not know it for certain. You have betrayed me to Albus Dumbledore - " Oh, that shaking of his head was so genuine - "You have told him everything, Severus. Everything that ever passed between us, all the secrets I told you -" He raised a finger when Severus tried to interrupt to deny this, "I have witnesses, Severus. Witnesses of your betrayal. You are only alive because I had not managed to find the time to kill you - and you had yet to admit that you had betrayed me. But you have certainly hurt me, Severus."

Severus finally managed, "No. This is not me, my Lord - he must have - it must be a spell, you know I am loyal to you."

Voldemort laughed, but would not tell Severus the reason why. Instead, he looked into that face and saw a teenager's eyes - filled with determination and ambition and selfishness too - that the world hated Severus and he hated the world and only the Dark Lord was able to see his true powers and his true desires. "I do wish I could believe you, Severus. I really wish I could, but I don't…I do not trust you any longer."

Severus tried to speak before his body had truly formulated the action and instead he descended into a coughing fit. Voldemort noticed with some concern the blood that specked the blankets as the spasms wracked Severus' ribcage. He reached out and touched Severus' shoulder, calming him, "Here, have something to drink." He did not see the moral issue with lacing Severus' drinks - after three days of such drinks, Voldemort thought it cruel to stop. They would just ensure Severus was more compliant than usual, slightly easier to corrupt - and weaker than normal, too. He had made sure that Severus survived his trauma, and had tended to the younger wizard in a way he considered to be quite benevolent - but sometimes, the lightest of magic could be the greatest corrupter. He had saved Severus' life, and that meant the other owed him. Owed him greatly. He waited for the coughing to subside and then helped Severus to lean back against the pillows, wiping a tendril of blood and saliva that remained away from the corner of Severus' mouth. "As I was saying. I do not know if I can trust you."

"You can - always trust me - my Lord." Severus muttered between struggling, gasping breaths.

"We used to be close, Severus. I used to trust you. You were…important to me. My advisor and my lieutenant." Voldemort stood and turned to the window, "I…thought perhaps you would become more than just a follower - an equal - someone to stand by my side, rather than in the shadows - apparently I was wrong." He imagined the torment his words were placing Severus in and wanted to smirk - but he had to keep up this pretence - if he could just…

"My Lord. What can I do? What can I do to prove myself to you?"

Voldemort smiled. "You wish to redeem yourself to me, Severus? You think that possible?"

A rustling of blankets. Voldemort turned and was presented with the rather unexpected image of Severus kneeling before him, "Please, I'll do anything."

Voldemort enjoyed the humiliation of his usually rather aloof Severus before shaking his head. "Get back into bed, you are not yet well enough." He pulled Severus up and half pushed, half sat him back down on the bed. "Now. Severus. I understand your desire to correct what you believe you have done wrong. Therefore, as I am merciful, I will present you with one final chance to prove yourself, to redeem yourself, and to escape a fate which is indeed worse than death."

Severus leaned forward, as Voldemort pulled back his left sleeve to examine Severus' left arm. He traced his fingers across the Dark Mark, "It's quite simple, considering your current position. I want you, Severus, to kill Albus Dumbledore."


	22. Green Eyes

**Too Deep**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Severus crossed the boundary into Hogwarts School, pulling his cloak up and around his shoulders and lowering his hood onto his head so he was not easily identified. It was dark, but he wanted to avoid any confrontations or meetings if he could avoid it. The grounds of the school were larger than he remembered and it was exhausting him to walk across the hills and slopes, his body still protesting being up at all. But he needed to prove himself to the Dark Lord, he needed to show that he was not a traitor - how his master could even think that, he was not sure - he was one of the most loyal, always had been - and he always would be - but his master no longer believed him. The Dark Lord had briefed Severus quickly, explaining that Severus had lost some of his memory due to his illness and that he did not remember being a teacher at Hogwarts. Severus wasn't sure quite how much time he had spent unconscious - or indeed how much of his life he had lost, but he would find out soon enough.

Finally the doors to the castle greeted him, and he staggered up the steps and into the Entrance Hall, leaning heavily on a pillar and catching his breath. His legs and muscles ached and dark spots appeared in front of his vision. He needed to remember what the Dark Lord had told him - he was Potions teacher, so his office would be in the dungeons. All he needed to do was get there, then he could begin to decipher what had happened to him and how best to proceed in killing Dumbledore.

Unsteadily walking across the hall, feet slipping on the marble tiles, he caught himself once again on a pillar and breathed steeply to stay conscious. Why did everything hurt so badly? He felt so weak - as if he could fall asleep where he stood -

"Professor?"

A voice that he knew. His head shot up, despite the dizziness. He stared across at James Potter. The black hair and the glasses - what was he doing here? Why was he calling Severus 'professor'? He wanted to reach for his wand but Potter was not reaching for his, either…

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Potter continued, and Severus looked closer - there was something different about Potter - he seemed younger than Severus would have expected, and although he had black hair and glasses, he didn't - there was something - he was a teacher. He had to remember that he was a teacher. He straightened his back, "Shouldn't you be in bed, Potter?" He spat, and Potter looked at him closely. "Yes. I was visiting the Headmaster - he wanted to see me - I am going back now, sir."

Severus nodded, "Then go. Quickly." He watched as Potter disappeared and headed once more toward the dungeons - why did James Potter have Lily's eyes?

* * *

Harry knew it was late, and he knew that he should not disturb the Headmaster at this time, but something was clearly wrong with Snape. He hammered on the door - and when Dumbledore pulled back the door to greet him, he was already talking, "He's back. Snape's back - I saw him."

"Yes, I know Harry, I felt him penetrate the wards - is he hurt?" Dumbledore seemed rather relieved at Severus' return, but the expression of confusion on Harry's face was heightening that sense of anxiety once again. "I don't know." Harry responded, "He looked at me as if he had seen a ghost, and I do not think he recognised me at first - and he did not take any points from Gryffindor even though he knows I am out after curfew."

Albus nodded, "That is rather concerning. I shall pay him a visit. Thank you, Harry - I am sure he is simply tired. You may go to bed now."

* * *

Severus was staring at himself in the mirror. He could barely hear the knocking on the door over the roaring in his ears. He knew he needed to answer it, but he could not tear his eyes from his reflection. He was no child. Haunted eyes and gaunt skin and lank hair stared back at him, worn with time and age - this was not his teenage body - what was happening here?

"Severus? Severus, it's Albus - I saw you return - would you like to talk, my boy?"

Severus was confused. Very confused - and as confusion started to manifest into fear, he knew he needed to get rid of Dumbledore. He turned to the door. "I'm a little busy, Dum -" He caught himself, "Headmaster." Be respectful, he told himself mentally, he needed to gain Dumbledore's trust if he were to successfully succeed in his mission. "I will speak with you in the morning…"

He hoped that would be enough to convince Dumbledore - and he continued to listen.

"Very well. Make sure you get some sleep, Severus."

He thought about sleep, but instead, he simply sat in an armchair that was not his own in an office that was not his own - and his mind returned to the boy.

How could James Potter have Lily's eyes?


End file.
